


Giving In

by bugchicklv



Series: Winning Isn't Everything [4]
Category: Make Me a Supermodel (US) RPF
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-14
Updated: 2008-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugchicklv/pseuds/bugchicklv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purely Sex.  For a Kink!Fest prompt of "Long, drawn-out finger fucking"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving In

**Author's Note:**

> Still might not really take place in same reality as part 1.

Ben balks for a moment when Ronnie roughly presses him face-first against the shower stall and asks, his voice low and sultry, “So, how much do you want it?”

Truthfully? He wants to come really, really bad. This marathon foreplay of theirs is driving him crazy; but, he isn’t used to this, to not seeing exactly what Ronnie is doing to his body, and the not-knowing is slightly unnerving. Every other time they’ve had sex it’s been face to face, cock to cock, and even though he won’t admit it out loud, he’s been wary, carefully maneuvering their interactions to completely avoid being in this position.

To continue on this honesty kick, he has to admit that he’s spent more than a few hours these past several days fantasizing about how it would feel to fuck Ronnie, wondering what Ronnie would sound like, look like, taste like when he’s balls deep in that ass; he even dreams of riding the other man, pounding him hard and fast into the mattress, and then wakes up to the feel of wet sheets each morning. The prospect of such an event thrills him.

It’s just, well, he’s not comfortable with the idea of letting Ronnie do that to him. Not yet anyway, if at all.

All thought ceases immediately when Ronnie places one hand between Ben’s shoulder blades, pushes him flat against the door and then gently, teasingly slides the fingers of his other hand along his ass crack.

The glass is cold and it throws Ben off balance, makes him gasp. When the shock of it is combined with the relaxing hot water beating against his skin and slick feel of those talented fingers caressing him so intimately, though, it’s more than enough to short-circuit his brain.

Running his hands up and over Ben’s hips, around his thighs and back to his ass, Ronnie growls, “How much?” and Ben’s cock jumps at the sound. The insistent touch and the blatant, impatient demand for an answer completely erase his doubt; the little head takes over and makes the decision for him.

Ben stretches up his arms to hold onto the top of the door and arches back, pressing against Ronnie, pressing into his hands. He wants Ronnie to take control, to tell him what to do, what he needs, so that he doesn’t have to admit to it, to wanting this.

Ronnie slides his arms around Ben’s waist, leans his face in next to Ben’s ear and presses his palms flat against Ben’s stomach just above his pubic bone; he lifts up, slides his dick along the crevice where his fingers just were and pulls back again, whispering, “How much, Ben?”

Ben groans, presses back again, desperate for the feel of that hard cock on his skin and then reaches behind him to draw Ronnie closer. Ronnie dodges his hands and steps back further.

“Tell me.”

His words are an order, a dare, and an ultimatum to confess or else Ronnie will leave him there, achingly hard and unsatisfied. Groaning, Ben reaches down, frantic to touch himself, to end this torture but Ronnie slaps his hand away and then wraps his fist tightly around the base of Ben’s dick, effectively stemming the rising tide that threatens to break over him.

It’s been like this all night. Soul-searing kisses that leave him breathless, a hot tongue that’s laid claim to every inch of skin but the eight that count, coming so close to orgasm time and time again, trembling with a need so intense that it might just consume him, only to be so rudely jerked back. The maddening wait is more than Ben can bear; at this point he’s ready to say yes to anything, anything at all to finally get off.

Ben’s head falls over to rest on Ronnie’s shoulder. He lets Ronnie’s soothing kisses and the hot water wash away the fear, the doubt. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and finally replies, “I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.”

****

Ronnie smiles at Ben’s admission, knowing that he’s finally won.

It’s taken him far too long to weaken Ben’s resolve, to get him to even think about this; and the quiet surrender, the trust in Ben’s voice, almost makes him come right then. It’s been a difficult night for him too, this constant effort to keep his desires under control. But the victory is so sweet that it’s almost like a physical release and, with a sigh, he lets the tension roll off of him, instantly relaxed. Again, Ronnie kisses Ben gently, using his tongue and lips to assure Ben that this won’t go any farther than he’s willing to let it.

He pulls away, trailing his hands down Ben’s shoulders and arms; then, he aims the showerhead between their bodies. Letting the spray cascade down Ben’s back and over his face he drops to his knees, nudging Ben’s legs apart with his own. He places one palm on the small of Ben’s back to angle his body just right and when he’s satisfied with the position, Ronnie runs his hands over Ben’s ass.

With strong, determined fingers, Ronnie massages and kneads the smooth, white skin, relaxing the tightly clenched muscles. Spreading the globes gently apart, Ronnie places his tongue at the base of Ben’s back and then laves his way down and back up again. The slow, teasing licks to the puckered hole, like a cat lapping at cream, have Ben whining in frustration.

Ronnie spreads Ben open wider, thrusts his tongue inside Ben’s ass and Ben arches back, fucking himself on Ronnie’s tongue. Ronnie pulls back slightly, running the tip of his tongue around the ring over and over before pressing it flat against the hole and then plunging back in.

When Ben’s legs start to shake, threaten to give out, and he hears the metal groan under the tightening grip of Ben’s hands, Ronnie stops. He knows Ben’s body, the signs that signal he’s about to come, and he’s not ready to let Ben off the hook. It’s far too soon and this is hardly over.

****

When Ronnie backs up, dares to remove that wickedly teasing tongue from where it’s driving him wild, Ben could scream with frustration. He was so close.

“Don’t stop,” Ben pleads, heedless of the desperation in his voice. He bends forward a little more, shaking his ass enticingly, hoping to lure Ronnie and that miracle tongue to continue. He tilts his head back, turning his face to look back at the other man over his shoulder and begs, “Please?”

It felt so damn good that he can’t, for the life of him, remember why he was so reluctant to let Ronnie do that, to touch him there. It might have had something to do with the lame argument he’s been telling himself that he isn’t really gay and that doing that would make him a liar, especially if he liked it. Which he did. A lot. Rather more than a lot, actually. At this point he can’t remember enjoying anything as much as he did having Ronnie’s tongue inside of him, wanting anything as much as he wanted that.

Ben’s not sure what to expect next, but when Ronnie stands up, presses his chest against Ben’s back and then reaches his left arm around and under Ben’s to stick his index finger in Ben’s mouth, he’s pretty certain it wasn’t that. Throwing all caution to the wind, Ben groans and licks the digit, sucks on it suggestively and knows, just knows what Ronnie is going to do with it.

The thing is: Ronnie has been itching to get him off this way ever since they watched Stiffler talk about it in “American Pie.” He can’t say he wasn’t curious because they spent the next two hours discussing it and Ben couldn’t help but get hard when Ronnie went on and on, extolling the virtues of prostate stimulation; raving about how incredible it feels.

No matter how many times Ronnie told him that even women could--and would, if asked--do this for their very straight boyfriends or husbands, insisted that it was natural to explore and pleasure all areas of their bodies while having sex, the idea always just seemed so gay.

Which he isn’t. Wasn’t. Whatever. At this point he doesn’t care about labels anymore. Ben just needs to come, right now, and in any way that Ronnie will let him.

****

Ben licks and sucks Ronnie’s finger in an insanely hot fashion, his cheeks hollowing out in an impressive imitation of giving head. Ronnie can’t help but imagine it’s his cock instead and once again, he has to fight off the impending orgasm. He’s never had to struggle this hard or this long before; all of the tension has him on edge. To check the urge he goes through the usual list and tries to think about apple pie, the queen and baseball.

Only, thinking about apple pie makes him remember the movie they watched last week, the queen that pops into his mind is the drop-dead gorgeous one that runs the drag show in his favorite club back home, and the mental image of hot guys in skin-tight pants, their packages so neatly and obscenely on display—all of it has the opposite effect of what he was going for. So, before he loses all control, comes right then and there, he swallows hard and tries to concentrate on the task at hand: making Ben come first.

Ronnie reluctantly yanks his hand out of Ben’s mouth, instantly missing the incredible suction, the warmth, and reaches down to press that slicked up digit against Ben’s hole. At first, he gently circles the tight ring, waits for Ben to get used to the feeling, and when he feels the muscles relax he eases his fingertip in. With his free hand he turns Ben’s face back toward him little so that they can kiss, and then slowly, he pushes forward until he meets some resistance.

He swallows Ben’s gasp and hesitates to go further; he doesn’t want to hurt or scare Ben in any way and going too far, too soon would most definitely do both. It certainly did him that first time oh, so many years ago.

Ronnie relaxes his hand, wiggles his finger to test the waters and gauge Ben’s readiness, but he can tell that Ben is frustrated, is ready for more--despite what his body is saying--by the demanding, impatient kisses, the way he’s holding tightly to his arm and moaning so prettily into his mouth. Completely over the foreplay, Ben eagerly presses himself back, his hungry hole swallowing Ronnie’s entire finger.

Ben’s ass is hot and tight and oh, so greedy; he doesn’t wait for Ronnie to stroke or show him what to do, just takes the initiative of fucking himself and for the moment Ronnie lets him, holding his hand still for Ben to work out some of his need. But Ronnie knows that penetration alone won’t get Ben off so he breaks the kiss and wraps his right palm around Ben’s cock. Then, crooking his finger ever so slightly inside of Ben, takes over.

****

The feel of Ronnie’s finger as it plunges into him is odd, but nowhere near unpleasant, especially on the way out as it nudges his prostate. At least, he thinks that’s his prostate; Ronnie is definitely stroking something that he wasn’t just moments before and it is in the general vicinity of where his last doctor had probed to check for abnormalities. Hysterically, Ben hopes that during his next physical he doesn’t have the same reaction, doesn’t press back wanting deeper, harder, more, just like he is now. That would be beyond humiliating.

But he isn’t given time to think on it for long because Ronnie’s fist is gripping his cock tightly around the base, ever controlling the how and when of Ben’s impending orgasm. Just when he thinks it might finally break over him, that this delicious torture will cease, Ronnie squeezes hard, stops him from coming and then delicately slips another finger into his ass.

Ben bites his lip and holds his breath, spreading his legs a little more so that Ronnie can probe deeper because, beyond explanation, beyond reason, he wants it all, everything that Ronnie will give him. The slight burn does nothing to detract from the exquisite fullness, of being so completely at Ronnie’s mercy; it only intensifies Ben’s wanton lust.

His arms and legs shake as he tries to keep himself upright, and the feel of Ronnie squeezing and releasing his dick in time with the motion of his finger as it strokes in counter-point to the action has Ben reeling. His body is quaking and his mind is spinning with the sensory overload, and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

****

Ronnie nudges Ben’s head to the side with his chin and then latches onto the soft skin of his neck. He sucks hard knowing that he’ll leave a mark; he really doesn’t care. Ben is his, just as much as he is Ben’s, and even if the stylists notice, make some smart-ass comment about having to use massive amounts of concealer to cover it up or rearranging the clothes to hide it, Ronnie needs to know that he has branded Ben in some way, just as Ben has done to his heart.

Thrusting his own cock against Ben’s trembling thigh, rubbing against him in time with the strokes of his hand and fingers, Ronnie continues the assault on Ben’s body. When Ben arches against him, throws his head back, and he feels Ben’s balls draw up tightly, he knows it’s time.

As Ben’s muscles spasm around him, Ronnie closes his eyes and pumps his fist more quickly, urgently; he thrusts his fingers in deeper, harder and when Ben jerks back and forth demanding more Ronnie is unable to control his own orgasm. Jolts of lightening spiral up from his toes to explode in his brain and with a whimper he comes on Ben’s leg.

****

After he comes, thick white spurts that coat Ronnie’s hand and the shower door before being washed away down the drain, Ben takes a deep breath. He locks his knees to keep from falling over because, if he did, he knows that he’d bring Ronnie down with him, right to the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ronnie’s spunk sliding down his leg and for some odd reason it makes him smile, makes him laugh out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Ronnie asks.

Ben wants to say, “Nothing,” but he knows that Ronnie will see right through his denial, will wheedle the answer out of him anyway. So he turns, wraps his arms around the slightly taller man, and drawing them both under the steady stream of (thankfully) still-hot water, kisses him hard and deep, with all of the passion and emotion he’s held back for so long.

When they break away, breathless, Ben points to the gooey mess still sticking to his thigh and says, “Good thing we’re already in the shower.”


End file.
